Peeking in through the door, he found her with her head resting against the bath pillow, her mouth partially open, and quiet snores drifting from between her slightly swollen, very reddened lips. Even when she was sick, he wanted to capture her mouth with his.
Nope. Shaking his head, he stepped into the bathroom, either very thankful for or maddened by the miracle of bubbles. Although they weren’t nearly as high as when the bath had first been drawn, they still managed to conceal all his favorite places on her magnificent body.
“Grace . . .” He leaned in and shook her shoulder.
She didn’t stir so much as an inch; she just mumbled and then tried to turn, her head almost slipping beneath the surface of the bathwater. “How much am I going to be tested?” he asked no one in particular.
Grabbing a towel from the rack, he draped it across his chest, then pulled the plug on the bath, and reached into the tub, letting his hands slide against her slick flesh until he got a good hold on her before pulling her straight into his arms.
She immediately began shivering. He covered her as much as he could, then grabbed another towel and draped that over her, too, before quickly stepping into her bedroom, where her bed was a mess of tangled blankets.
Setting her down on one side of the bed, one towel beneath her, the other on top, he then threw her comforter over her. Grace reached out—he imagined it was for him—grabbed a pillow, and snuggled into it.
Camden stood there for a moment trying to figure out what to do next. There was no way he had the willpower to dry her off and dress her. That was asking way too much of him. He’d done his best not to peek while pulling her out of the tub, but a man could be held responsible for only so much.
Turning away to reduce the brutal waves of temptation, he went off to search her linen closet and was thrilled when he found another thick comforter along with clean sheets and spare blankets.
She was curled up in a ball on one side of the bed, so he pulled the sheets off the mattress on the other side, slid the new bedding into place, and tucked it in by her. Then he faced Grace again. He still had the problem of her state of undress. He was sure she was dry now, what with the towels and the thick comforter, but she’d want to wear at least a nightie in case she woke up and needed the bathroom.
He found an indecently short gown hanging behind the door in the bathroom, with spaghetti straps on top and lace around the hem. “Dammit!” Of course she slept in sexy nightclothes. When they’d dated, they’d stolen moments together, never being able to stay a whole night in the same place. He wondered if she’d worn the same sexy undergarments back then.
“Give me strength,” he said, looking upward.
Moving back into her room, he draped the gown over her head without moving the blankets, then reached beneath them and pulled it down her body, his knuckles grazing her flesh. Cam was sweating by the time he was done, and it wasn’t from overexertion.
Biting his lip, he pulled her from beneath the now-damp comforter, and she immediately snuggled against him, her breath warming his neck and making his lower body throb in time to the pulsing of his heart.
Laying her on the fresh linens, he quickly covered her up, then moved to the other side of the bed, where he stripped the rest of the old bedding off and quickly fixed the new.
More exhausted than if he’d been herding cattle all day, Cam practically stumbled from her bedroom and made a beeline for her fridge. “Please, please, please,” he said repeatedly, then almost felt a tear in his eye when he opened the refrigerator door and found a six-pack of Corona.
Pulling one out, he popped the cap and downed half the bottle in one gulp.
No, he wouldn’t be talking to her about anything regarding the file tonight. But because she was feeling so poorly, he also couldn’t leave her alone. If something happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.
After finishing the beer, he grabbed another one, then checked to make sure Grace was still sleeping before he settled in on her couch, her mango scent drifting all around him, and his lower brain growling at him for being such a fool. Man, that hurt.
Clicking on the television, he decided to settle in for one very, very long night. And yet, before the first half hour was up, his head was lolling to one side and he was drifting off.
Cam was startled awake by a scratching noise. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, and then he heard the noise again. He was instantly awake. It sounded as if someone were trying to pry open the window.
But they were in Sterling. Who in the hell would break into Grace’s apartment? He’d just been ribbing her earlier about her door being unlocked. In this town everyone left their doors unlocked until they went to bed.
When the noise continued, Cam jumped up and moved toward the front door. He went in stealth mode, but the squeaky floors in her apartment probably couldn’t help but betray him. He unlocked the door as quickly as possible and thrust it open.
No one was there, and for a moment he thought maybe he’d been imagining the whole thing. But when he looked again, he saw a flat-head screwdriver beneath her window. With narrowed eyes, he looked both ways on the balcony before he stepped up to the tool and bent down.
There were scratch marks on the outside of her window, as if someone had indeed been trying to break in. What the hell? Taking off his shirt, he used it to pick up the screwdriver. With luck, some prints could be lifted from the handle. But the whole idea was absurd. It had to just be neighborhood kids thinking they were being funny. Crime never really happened in Sterling. That’s why people chose to live here.
Not able to shed his sense of unease, though, Cam moved back inside the apartment, his rest for the night ruined. When she woke up, Grace was going to answer his questions. This time, he wasn’t taking no for an answer.